


like i was a walkie-talkie

by Vintar



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-23
Updated: 2014-04-23
Packaged: 2018-01-20 12:28:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1510448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vintar/pseuds/Vintar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say breaking up is hard to do, but they didn't have a vampire alien trying to help, a game of troll Truth or Dare to navigate, and a city of cans to run.</p>
            </blockquote>





	like i was a walkie-talkie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stereosymbiosis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stereosymbiosis/gifts).



"It's one of the purest forms of pale bonding," Kanaya explains with a level of scholarly primness that shouldn't be possible for someone sitting on a box and wearing a cape as a makeshift shawl. The Mayor has double-downed on Dave's de-caped despair by pinning a star made from a bean can label on to it, authorizing her authority. Dave's not sure if the little guy was trying to put it over her heart and just missed, or if the Mayor knows something about the inner workings of troll anatomy that Dave doesn't, but her deputy badge is pinned somewhere around her pancreas and is in danger of falling into her glass of water. "I'm sure I have a book borrowed from Karkat that explains it perfectly," she continues. "If you'd like to visit the designated recreational activity space, I'll be happy to read it to you."

She takes a sip from her glass. Dave ignores her. Can Town is a testament to human-Mayoral relations and a wonderful example of the inherent creativity of humanity and is also a perfectly fine place for someone to hang out after a breakup. What, no, your _face_ is weird and sad, shut up.

"I thought you didn't need to drink anything except the blood of innocents," he says, because why not. He's upside-down under a scaffold of cans that will one day be the town hall to end all town halls, and has probably already unlocked that achievement by dint of being the only town hall left in existence, which is a thing worthy of ceremony and praise and appropriate decoration. He can only see glimpses of Kanaya through the windows as he markers up a beautiful fresco on the underside of the roof. "Help me out here, Deputy: John Egbert as a big bearded god, or as a little naked flying baby?"

The newly and reluctantly deputized deputy of Can Town shrugs. "It's a good idea to drink water after drinking from Rose. It tastes awful, but I'd rather avoid the pan-pain the next morning." She looks into the glass like a disdainful cat but takes a sip anyway. "And anything but that last one."

"I'm gonna need a change of topic away from you getting your Twilight on with my sister," Dave demands, swapping to a grey marker to give Saint John the Dorkulous a voluminous beard truly worthy of being included in the fresco. "What were you talking about before, how does a dumbass party game have anything to to with being special alien friendpals?"

"It's a common form of pale flirting. Both parties trust each other. Either they'll request that the other undertake a challenging but fair task, or they'll request that they share a deep secret." 

"That's it? Damn, I kind of expected more murder from you guys."

"Murder can be a challenging but fair task," Kanaya says without batting an eyelid.

"That's not so different from the version of the game that we've got. I mean, minus the murder, unless you go to some seriously hardcore slumber parties. Usually we just play it to mess with people."

She raises her eyebrows. "It's pitch?"

"Sometimes when two tweenagers hate each other very much, they'll undertake a long and unnecessary campaign to annihilate the other's self-esteem and completely destroy all traces of their social life." He moves on to drawing Saint Jade the Furry, but his marker smudges and she ends up with three ears. Can Town is blessed by this addition to their tiny cylindrical pantheon: Saint Jade the all-hearing, incapable of wearing hats.

"So it _is_ pitch," Kanaya says, with the tone of someone who would really prefer that the issue simplified itself so she doesn't have to take notes.

"Nah, because they don't make out at the end." He caps a marker. "I mean, probably? I never got all David Attenborough about investigating school drama. I was too busy learning from the school of _life_ , yo."

There's a soft noise as Kanaya sets her glass down on the roof of the school, and Dave's glad that the Mayor is on his international political trip to the kitchen because the little dude can get _mean_ about the threat of impending water damage. When Kanaya leans forward her face appears through the skylight like a solemn moon. "The school of life seemed to involve a lot of distressing puppets, if I recall."

Dave squints up at her. "Are you truth or daring me right now?"

"No," she says, "because Rose has already told me at length about your wigglerhood. Also, it's not a verb."

"So you truth or dared with _her_ ," he accuses like an accusing thing while pointing one accusing finger. It doesn't make a lot of sense, but he does it anyway because he knows that implying anything pale between her and Rose makes Kanaya do a really weird full-body shudder that looks a little like she's dislocated something important. Just because he knows it's coming doesn't make it any less great when she does it.

The tip of her shoe appears through one of the windows. "I hope you aren't fond of this building," she threatens over his kind of gross snorty laughter, "because my involuntary movement of distaste might just involuntarily move it all over the room."

He hums and pushes her foot away with a finger. "Oh no, there goes Can Town-iyo, Kan-Kan-Kanzilla."

"You never know, I might leave you to sulk in here and go make my own cylindrical play hivecluster."

"Kan Town?"

He winds up to derail the whole topic with terrible puns, but she has a particularly determined look on her face. "If you had to undertake a task," she says in a tone of airy nonchalance that's completely at odds with how fast she steers the conversation back on track, "what would a suitable human dare be?"

Dave respectfully exits the town hall, which takes the form of sliding out on his back and trying not to clip the magnificent spaghetti-tin portico with his ears on the way out. This task being completed, he glares at her through his shades, his head resting on the beautiful marble steps chalked onto the floor. He glances back up into the hall to check his work, and the change in angle and perspective makes the fresco look even more deranged than he'd hoped.

"It's like the beard follows you around the room," he says appreciatively, and kisses his fingertips. " _Art_."

"Murder seems unwise in our current situation," she continues, which isn't creepy at all. "And other traditional dares involve social mores about hemocaste that don't really apply."

"Damn, how're you supposed to really get to know someone without some good old-fashioned slaughter and weird blood racism?"

Kanaya's mocking sincerity is a riptide that could suck in whole families. Somewhere, professional poker players are weeping into their chips. "Yes, you see my problem."

Dave sighs and thumps his head back against the two dimensional stairs. If it hasn't all wiped off on the back of his shirt, he's going to have pink and blue chalk highlights in his hair. Either way, he'll have a lot of explaining to do at the next town chalk budget meeting. "Just ask me to do something stupid."

She crosses one leg over the other and hums.

"Preferably something where I don't die or want to die," he clarifies.

Kanaya leans forward, pinning him down with her bright yellow sunny-side-up stare. "You should talk to Terezi."

He makes the sound of a buzzer, or at least what he thinks is the sound of a buzzer. "No, see, you fucked it up already. Foul, offside, ain't gonna happen."

Kanaya improves the moment by extending her foot and nudging his shades half off of his face. The act and the intent would be annoying enough by themselves but the shoe bunting him in the cheekbone and the edge of the shades digging into one eye elevates the whole shebang into something too stupid to get pissy about. Alien vampire kicks you in face for heartfelt game of truth or dare. Fucking incredible dot jpeg, quality minus 10.

"All the better to see you with, my dear?"

"You don't have antlers," she says. "I can help you talk to her if you want."

With great dignity and aplomb, Dave sticks his head back into the can hall. "I forfeit," he says to an uncaring marker rendition of John, "I forfeit. This is probably the part in troll truth or dare where you skin me alive and turn me into a hat, right? Try to make it quick. I leave my ballin' shades to my slime clone sister who will probably wear them all wrong anyway, give Karkat back that book I stole from him and apologize about the mustaches drawn on the hunks on the cover, and tell my chief of city planning I love him very much—"

Kanaya stares.

"— _he kno-o-o-ows_."

"You'd make terrible headgear," she says once he's done. "I don't think even your flayed skin would behave long enough for me to make a hat. You drew those mustaches?"

"Some people are just crying out for a stylin' 'stash, and romance-novel-cover aliens or not, I'm not going to be the one to deny them their full furry glory."

"He was extremely cross."

"It could be worse. He hasn't seen the drawings on the inside yet. If you're going to murder me, could you hurry it up a little? My foot's falling asleep."

On his back, he can only look upside-down at her. If you turn a frown upside-down it's not still supposed to look annoyed, but she's managing it, like a magic eye picture where both pictures are a discontented vampire. "It's not a pitch game. A forfeit simply means that the parties misjudged each other." She taps her foot a little. "Traditionally it means both parties should engage in an embrace until the air is cleared."

They look at each other.

After a while she says "I forfeit the forfeit."

He exhales. "Your loss. I'm an excellent hugger. People line up around the block for a chance for a Strider squeeze. A coolkid cuddle. A... shit, no, I got nothing else. Pretend I stopped at two."

She squints at him a little. It's probably meant to look suspicious but just ends up looking like she has allergies. "Have you ever actually hugged anyone?"

He crosses his hands into a warning X. "Illegal move, you're out of questions. You're on the benches, Maryam, it's my turn on the court."

The allergy-suspicion turns to alarm. "I forfeited, though."

"You forfeited your forfeit but I didn't forfeit any forfeits or forfeit forfeits or non-forfeits."

She rubs her temples. "Can I forfeit all future use of the word forfeit?"

"No." He cracks his knuckles. "I choose..."

She looks worried.

"Truth," he says.

Her worry deepens.

"Can I suggest murder after all?" she says. "Our numbers are small, but I'm confident that I can make it work."

"No. Shh. I'm gonna hit you with both barrels of the traditional teenage human truth ceremony. Now," he says, and levels a finger at her, "who... was your first kiss?"

Kanaya freezes except for her traitorous tell-tale foot, tapping in nervousness against the floor, then apparently reaches some sort of consensus. She leans forward, as if to tell him a hushed secret, but then she keeps leaning forward to the point where it changes from _leaning_ to _looming_ , and he backs up into the town hall as far as he can go without raining cans of beans down upon his head. 

"I claim sanctuary," he says. "I'm warning you, I've got a fist full of markers and a lot of practice drawing sweet mustaches."

There's the twinned thumps of Kanaya shifting from her seat to kneel on the ground beside the hall, and then she glares through the skylight, one big yellow eye of Sauron staring down at him. "Do not tell Rose."

"No ma'am."

"She can be unpredictable," says the chainsaw-wielding undead alien. "I'm unsure how she'd take it."

"Your secret's safe with me," he promises. "Though I may have to tell the Mayor. Don't worry, your secret's even safer with him."

Kanaya glares at him through the skylight for a moment, then retreats to the pretend safety that comes from not having to look at someone in the eyes while sharing a secret. "Aradia."

"The time fairy ram chick?" He drums his fingers on the floor. "No, wait. The ram time fairy chick. The time ram fairy chick? Shit, no, that ain't right. Help me out here, Grammaryam."

She ignores him. "She visited my desert in search of relics sweeps ago, and in the aftermath of a daywalker massacre we may have become a little carried away. There's my secret," Kanaya says primly. " Stop laughing. Do what you will with it."

"What if what I choose to do with it _is_ to laugh at it?" he says, but the vengeful eye of Sauryam appears at the skylight again and he raises his hands in placation. "What I'm going to do with it is try to forget that I ever heard it. Zombie slaughter, really? What's wrong with a bunch of flowers?"

"You'd be surprised," she says, in that tone he knows she's picked up off of Rose. He can nearly hear the wiggling eyebrows. There's a quiet rustle of fabric, and he thinks she's about to get comfy and espouse the aphrodisiac virtues of killing the undead, but instead she gets to her feet. "I think I should retire for the day." Everything goes dark inside the hall as she drapes his borrowed cape over it. "Could I encourage you to be sociable more often? I think taking a trip out of town every now and again might be good for you."

Dave twitches the cape aside to look out of the window at her, but the eternal disadvantage of having windows four inches off of the ground means that all he can see are her ankles. "Nah. Maybe? Nah, I'm fine in here. The Mayor's good company."

He expects more polite meddling, a there's-plenty-more-fish-in-the-sea-except-the-sea-is-a-giant-space-frog-and-most-of-the-fish-are-related-to-you-or-dead speech, but instead there's a moment of silence. Kanaya hums noncommittally.

"What's—" Dave mimics her hum. "Was that you actually agreeing with me?"

He tracks the sound of her footsteps as she makes her way to the doorway, stepping around the downtown apartment complex and lifting her feet carefully over the stadium. "Would you be up to a truth or dare lightning round?"

"No way."

"Too bad." Kanaya's voice comes from around the edge of the doorway. "I share the truth that my glass of water appears to have flooded the school while we were talking, and I dare you to take the fall for it."

By the time that Dave scurries out from under the cape-covered hall, the dozens of smiley-faced chalk children attending the school, previously the shining hopes and dreams of Can Town, are now a damp rainbow blur. 

"Party games are a menace to polite society," he explains to the Mayor upon his mayorly return, caught in the middle of mopping up the horrific technicolour carnage. "And for the sake of preventing another disaster like this, you should definitely tell me if you come up with any good questions for truth or dare."


End file.
